


Hunted

by JeffandMarty



Category: Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased) (1969)
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, Missing Persons, Mystery, maybe i'll write some more chapters sometime if people like it!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2019-07-18 13:11:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16119176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeffandMarty/pseuds/JeffandMarty
Summary: Jeff and Marty are visited by a woman looking for her lost business partner - who just so happens to work in the business of ghost hunting.The beginning of a story I wrote in 2016 and never finished, but I figured I would post it anyway.





	Hunted

“-Hold on Jeff, there’s someone coming up with a case.” 

Both the detectives spun round simultaneously as the outside door clicked shut, and the interior one opened. A woman, in her late thirties, stood tensely in the doorway, her eyes quickly flicking from the rest of the room to Jeff. 

She looked at him hopefully. “Mr Randall?” 

He gave a friendly smile. “The one and only,” He said, moving to pull out the chair. “Would you like to sit down, Mrs…?” 

“Miss Alena Taylor.” She obliged Jeff’s request and took a seat with an almost whispered thank you. The way she sat down seemed like she was hovering in the chair, forcing herself to become smaller, as if she didn’t want to touch the sides of it; as if she felt she didn’t belong there, and the room was going to chew her up and spit her out at any second. But she wasn’t going to let Mr. Randall see this - see her so flustered when she needed to be professional - and so she finally took a deep breath, placed herself a little too firmly on the hard wood, and sat, white-knuckled, clutching the dainty handbag in her lap like it was the only thing keeping her afloat in the middle of a raging ocean, and forced a smile at the man in front of her. 

“I’ve come concerning a friend and work colleague of mine.” she started, pausing to root out a photograph, and held it up, clenched between her fingers, like a trophy. 

Marty and Jeff leaned in to look. It was a picture of a man: dark hair; flashy suit; face set in a genuine, crinkled smile; his arm around Alena’s shoulder. Jeff could tell it was a friendly touch, though, and that she and the man were close. 

“Nice suit,” Marty remarked, “not as good as mine though.” He brushed his fingers over his white sleeve as if wiping some invisible ectoplasm from it. 

Jeff had become an expert at subtly rolling his eyes at the ghost. 

“His name is Byron Bell. He’s my business partner. He went missing ten days ago,” Alena turned the photo to face her and gave it a wistful look. “The police say it’s a lost cause: that there aren’t any leads,” She gently placed the photograph back in her bag. In a moment, she had snapped her head up to look Jeff straight in the eye. 

“Listen, Mr. Randall, you’ve got to help me. You’re my only hope. I can’t run the business without him, and I know he must be still alive out there, somewhere. Please.” 

Jeff blinked, stunned, for a few seconds, before regaining his composure and sitting up. 

“Miss Taylor…” 

Alena cut him off. “If the issue is money, I’m willing to pay twenty five pounds for you to help me find him, five of it upfront.” 

She slid a few notes across the table, and Jeff briefly exchanged a glance at Marty, who responded with an enthusiastic ‘Go on, take it!’. 

“Well, Miss Taylor, I’m sure we – uh, I, will be very pleased to take on your case. Where did you last see Mr. Bell?” 

“Well, that would be last Tuesday, just as he was leaving work. I stayed on late to file a report from the last job we did.” 

“And if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is your place of work?” 

“Well, uh –, ” Alena’s face turned red. “You see, I have quite an unusual job. I… well, I hunt ghosts. For a living,” She started speaking rapidly. “And it’s not as nonsensical as it sounds, I assure you, there is some very real scientific proof behind the theory of spirits returning from beyond the grave.” 

Jeff had the scientific proof standing right next to him. 

“Alright.” he said. 

Alena’s eyes darted around the office once again. “And, excuse me, Mr Randall, if you don’t mind me saying - and I know this may sound silly - but from the moment I walked in, I’ve felt a presence here, in this very room. Now, I don’t know whether it’s malevolent or not, but I can just… feel it, close to us.” 

Marty raised his eyebrows. “Is she talking about me, Jeff?” 

Jeff turned his head in a sarcastic stage whisper. “Well are there any other spirits around here she could be talking about?” 

Marty jumped and quickly looked around the room. "Other spirits?" 

After determining that there was nothing there, he glared daggers at Jeff. "Ha ha, very funny." 

He then walked over to Alena and tentatively waved his hand in front of her face, but she didn't react. Marty looked intrigued, but there was a hint of fear in his eyes. “Well she obviously can’t see me, but I think she can sure sense me alright. What should we do, Jeff? What if she tries to hunt me?” 

By this point, Jeff had realised he had left it a little too long without replying to Alena, and quickly turned his attention back to her. “Sorry?” 

“Are you alright, Mr Randall?” 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, just a little… distracted, that’s all.” 

Marty was now working himself up into a state. He was pacing around the room, half walking, half teleporting, and babbling about something or other. 

“Jeff, she’s going to find out about me, she’s going to send me back! I just know it Jeff, you shouldn’t have taken this job, now I won’t be able to see Jeannie and -” 

“Marty will you please cut that out!” 

The ghost stopped in his tracks and slowly looked at Jeff, then at Alena, who was also staring at him. 

“I… didn’t mean to say that so loudly.” Jeff turned to Alena. “Look, well, I might as well tell you.” 

Marty hissed at him, “No, no, no, no, no - !” 

“The presence is my late partner, Marty Hopkirk.” 

“Ah!” Marty let out a yelp. 

“I can see and talk to him. And he’s not malevolent in any way, really. Sure, he does break the occasional mug, but I can forgive him for that.” 

Alena looked shocked. “You can… see him? Talk to him?” 

“Yeah, he’s here right now. Marty, do something. Blow some things around or whatever you do.” 

Marty crossed his arms with an indignant pout.

Jeff gave him a stern look. “Marty.”

“Oh, fine.” 

Marty took in a deep breath and blew the papers on Jeff’s desk into the air.


End file.
